


Syncope

by waltraud



Series: Young Inspector Morse (Endeavour) [2]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Fainting, Sickfic, Whump, can be read as, fear of blood, vasovagale Synkope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24679207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltraud/pseuds/waltraud
Summary: Morse is doing, what he always does: not getting enough sleep, forgetting to get enough (non-alcoholic) fluids, not eating regulary.So what will happen, when he gets surprised by a little bit of blood in the middle of solving a case?
Series: Young Inspector Morse (Endeavour) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784299
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Syncope

**Author's Note:**

> Well, maybe I am a bit obsessed with this series right now.  
> I found it a few weeks ago, and now it's everywhere in my mind :P
> 
> I hope you like this new short story.  
> Feel free to leave a comment or some kudos to let me know, what you think.
> 
> Hope you are all well,  
> Love  
> Waltraud

He was sitting at his desk, a stack of old case files in front of him, sorting through them, searching for any connection the victims might have had.  
There were years between the cases, but still the way there throats had been cut and how they had been arranged in a bed of flowers in the woods was just to similar to think it was coincident.  
It had been Thursday who had seen the pattern, when they went to have a look at the murderer’s resent victim. The older man remembering a case from nearly eight years ago.  
They then started sorting through there older unsolved cases, also including those of the country police, having found at least four more victims, all of them women in their early thirties.

Hours had passed without him finding anything. Putting the file in his hand back to the others, he frustratedly got up moving towards Thursday’s office.  
“Sir.” He softly knocked against the DI’s door frame to make his presence known.  
“Morse. Anything you found?”  
“Not really. I thought maybe if we’d talk to their families again, maybe we will find something that has not been written down then. Something that did not feel important.”  
Thursday had a look at his watch and frowned.  
“Well maybe we will manage two of them, the rest has to wait until tomorrow I fear.” He collected his mantle and his hat.

Together they got into the car.  
“Let’s start with the first victim.”  
“Ella Griffins?”  
“Yes.”  
They drove in silence.  
Not many cars were on the road, and it took them only about half an hour to reach the small house owned by Ella’s husband a short distance from the city.  
A young girl, maybe teen years old, opened the door, as they rang the bell.  
“Hello, dear”, Thursday greeted her. “Is your father at home?”  
The girl sceptically rose an eyebrow. “And you are?”  
“DI Thursday, city police. And this is DS Morse.” He showed her his badge.  
She carefully studied it before stepping aside, letting them in, her demeanour more adult, than it should be at her age.  
“Is this about my mum?” She asked, a hinge of curiosity mixed in her voice.  
“I fear so.”  
“I don’t know, if daddy will be a lot of help to you”, she said. “It’s not one of his good days today. I am not sure if he is willing to talk to you about it right now.”  
Her words left them a little puzzled.

She led them through the house and into the living room.  
“Dad, there are two men from the city police, having some questions for you”, she announced, as they stepped inside.  
At a large window in a corner of the room Mr. Griffin slowly turned his head towards them.  
It took Morse a moment to realize he was not seated in an armchair, but in a wheelchair.  
His head was starting to bald, and his eyes had a dull expression to them.  
“Mr. Griffin, I am DI Thursday from the city police. This is my colleague DS Morse. We are sorry to have to bother you at this late hour, but there are new facts about your wife’s death and we would like to ask you a few more things about her.”  
The man did not move an inch, did not show, he had even heard Thursday’s words.  
The two officers shared a quick glance.  
“Mr. Griffin,” Morse started, but what ever he was about to say, was interrupted by Mr. Griffin.  
“I … have … no … wife”, he said, his voice slow and faint.  
“Well, of course we know she ...”  
“I! Never! Had! A! Wife!”, Mr. Griffin suddenly screamed, having Morse jump a little in surprise.  
He felt a little tug at his sleeve and turned around to look in the young face next to him.  
“As I told you, it’s not one of his good days. Maybe it would be better if you came back another time”, she said.  
He could see the sadness in her eyes.  
_Emma_ , he remembered, having read her name somewhere in the files during the morning.

The young girl walked them back to the front door.  
Thursday searched his pockets for one of his cards.  
“Give us a call please, if he is fit to talk to us, would you?”  
She nodded, taking the card from his large hands.  
With that, the DI turned around, stepping to their car.  
Morse hesitated.  
“Do you … how are you two doing?” He tried his best to be polite about it, but she still seemed to get, what he was asking her.  
“Oh, you know, we are getting by quite well. My aunt comes by in the morning and in the evening, and there is a nice lady in the neighbourhood having a look at him at noon, when I am still at school. He’s not much work, you know.”  
“Did he have an accident, that left him in that state?”  
“He fell from a ladder, when I was one year old, breaking his neck. Can only move his left hand since. The first years I remember, he was still very bright and talkative. But lately, he seems to close more and more into himself.”  
She again had that sad look in her eyes, but her voice was calm as she spoke.  
Morse took out one of his own cards from his pocket.  
“I do not want to intrude”, he carefully said. “But if you ever feel the need to get help, feel free to call me.”  
Their gaze met and after studying him for a few seconds, she finally gave a nod.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thursday was waiting for him in the car.  
He tiredly let himself fall in the driver seat.  
“You alright?” Thursday asked, as he started the engine.  
Morse shrugged his shoulders.  
“Long day”, he answered.  
There was not much to say about it. He felt for the girl, feeling some unspoken similarities between them.  
“Are you up for another one, or shall we better call it a day?”  
“No, let’s get one more done”, Morse said.

They decided to get to their victim’s families in chronological order, with the second victim’s, Jeany Mellows, family living a good distance away. 

It was again Thursday knocking against the door upon their arrival.  
This time it was Mr. Mellows who opened the door to them, inviting them to the kitchen, after their introduction.  
He gladly poured them some tea, before sitting down with them.  
He was shocked, to hear, there were more victims like his wife, but even after talking to him for more than an hour they still were no step further.  
“Excuse me”, Morse finally dared to ask. “Would it bother you much, if I used your toilet for a moment.”  
“Oh no. Of course not. Just down the hall on the left.”  
“Thank you.”  
He got up and left the kitchen. 

The hall, only lit by a dim lightbulb, was still nicely decorated with some finely selected antique furniture.  
Along the walls pictures were on display. Most of them showing a young woman and a younger looking Mr. Mellows. But on some of them there was also a child, a boy. The early ones showing nothing extraordinary. Him sitting on his mothers lap. Him being held by his father. But as the boy grew up, you could see, something was different, with the last picture showing him crawling along the floor like a toddler at the age of maybe twelve. 

Morse found the bathroom without trouble and returned to the kitchen, finding Thursday ready to leave.  
“One last question Mr. Mellows, if that’s alright”, Morse said.  
Mr. Mellows nodded in agreement.  
“May I ask if you son is at home?”  
The man in front of him shook his head. “No, during the term he is at a boarding school. He has some … special needs … and after Jeany had passed away … well we decided he would be better taken care of where he is know. He only visits during the holidays.”  
“Thanks, that would be everything than I guess”, Morse said.  
They said goodbye and left the house.

“His son is disabled”, Morse said, as they drove away. “They have some pictures of him hung up in the hall.”  
“Hm, just like Mr. Griffin.”  
“What if that’s the connection?!” Morse declared.  
“Well but the newest victim, Ms. Lancley does neither have a husband nor a child.”  
“Still, there has to be something about it ...” It could not be a coincidence. He felt he was on the right track here. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The office was empty when he arrived, all his colleagues already on their way home.  
He had made a quick stop at Thursday’s home, where his wife was awaiting him with dinner, than hurried to come back to the station.

Flipping on his desk light, he again started sorting through the files still waiting there.  
He found the third victim had have a daughter with Down’s syndrome and the husband of the fourth one had a stroke in his early twenties, when a vessel in his brain popped.  
But still he found nothing connecting Ms. Lancley to their rows.  
He tiredly rubbed his eyes, a slight throb in his head.  
A quick look at the clock along the wall revealed it was well past two o’clock in the morning by now.  
He hadn’t realized time passing by so fast.  
Much to late to give a call or visit to Ms. Lancley’s sister.

With heavy steps he made his long walk home.  
No buses driving anymore at this hour. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The ringing of his alarm clock shook him awake, what felt like only minutes later, even though it had been about three hours of sleep he had.  
The pounding in his head still not entirely gone, he quickly downed a cup of tea and half a slice of toast before hurrying of to go and pick up his boss.

He waited for Thursday in the hall. His eyes nearly closing more than once on their own accord.  
He was in dire need of some coffee, he thought.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ms. Lancley did not have a husband or child with some kind of ailment her sister told him. But they had a mother with dementia. The old woman had been staying at her sister’s place, being cared for by her over the years.  
It was only now, that her sister was gone, that there mother had been transferred to a nursery home.

It took him two more hours and a good couple of phone calls until finally he found a connection.

Jumping up from his seat, he hurried to Thursday’s office, forgetting to knock, as he stormed inside.  
“Sir, Sir, I found it! I know now...” He stopped mid track, his eyes falling on the bloody handkerchief wrapped around his boss’ hand. A small puddle had built on his desk.  
Thursday followed his gaze.  
“Cut myself with the paperknife. Should be alright in a minute.” He waved at the young man to step inside.

The detectives words sounded strangely distorted next to the ringing in his ears. He wished he could turn away his eyes, but he felt like frozen, not able to move an inch.  
He felt his own blood being pulled away from his head. The edged of his vision going grey.  
“Morse?!”  
He was aware Thursday was calling his name. The older man getting up from behind his desk.  
The wooden floor beneath his feet seemed to have lost its solidity all of a sudden.  
He felt sick.  
His vision vanishing entirely.  
Blindly he forced his arms to move, trying to get a hold of the door frame behind him.  
Missing.  
“Morse!”  
Another voice.  
Not far from him.  
A hand grabbing him from behind, just as his legs give out under him.

Then … Nothing …

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fred had not anticipated for the cut to bleed so much. By the time he had found his handkerchief inside his pockets, a small puddle of blood had already collected on his desk, luckily missing the letters he had been reading.  
He carefully lifted the cloth, examining the damage. The cut was clean and not very deep. A few moments of pressure should do the trick in stopping the bleeding.

Morse burst through his door not bothering to knock.  
“Sir, Sir, I found it! I know now...” Then he stopped mid sentence. His eyes growing wide as he took in the sight of his hand.  
“Cut myself with the paperknife. Should be alright in a minute.” He said, gesturing to the boy to come inside and tell him about his findings.  
The lad did not move.  
Hovering near the door, eyes still clued to Fred’s hand. The colour slowly draining from his face.  
“Morse?!” He tried to get his associates attention.  
He had a vague idea what might happen next.  
It hadn’t happened since all these years back, that Morse had joint them, but everyone knew, he still got peaky around death and blood.  
Keeping the cloth in his hand as tightly as possible, Fred rose from his chair moving towards the young man, who now reached out for some halt. Starting to sway on his spot.  
Fred hurried, but he was sure he wouldn’t get there in time.  
Not this time.

It was just that moment Jakes choose to step inside the office.  
“Morse!”  
Fred was not always keen on working with Jakes, feeling him to be way to arrogant, but today he was glad he was there.  
Without much thinking the other man grabbed Morse by his collar, just as the younger man started to go down. Getting hold of on of his arms, he slowly lowered him to the ground. The lads head coming to a rest in his lap.  
He was more gentle, than Fred would have guessed he could be.  
“What the… Morse?… What happened?” Jakes asked him, throwing him a confused look.  
Fred knelt beside the two young man, slightly waving with his hand.  
“Cut myself. Think I caught him cold with it.”  
Jakes frowned. “Looks quite nasty. You alright?”  
Fred shrugged his shoulders. “I think it already stopped bleeding. Would you mind lending me a clean handkerchief? Thank you.”  
He quickly exchanged his improvised, bloody bandage against a fresh one, The blood actually had stopped oozing from the cut.  
He than made himself busy, moving one of his chairs to elevate Morse’s legs upon.  
It was only a few seconds before his protégé started to stir, his eyes slowly blinking against the light shining through the windows.  
“Morse?”  
The lad looked between him and Jakes hovering above him in confusion.  
“What … How...” He still seemed quite out of it.  
“You had a little episode when I cut myself in the hand just seconds before you stepped in my office. Everything will be alright. Take your time.”  
Morse uttered a silent curse, rubbing his face with one hand.  
Than, as some thought seemed to strike his brain, he suddenly sat up startling both Fred and Jakes.  
“It has to be someone from the hospital”, he declared.  
With none of them seeming to understand what he was talking about he went on.  
“The killed women, all of them have been taking care of one of their kin, and each of those had been transferred to the same hospital only a week prior to the women’s death.”  
Fred took a moment to think about it.  
“Jakes, get a few of the other officers and have look at that hospital. Phone me as soon as you find something.”  
With one last glance to Morse’s still ghostly appearance Jakes nodded and left his office, already calling for Strange and Wallace on his way out. 

Fred closed the door behind him, turning back to Morse.  
He was still sitting there, his back against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest, shielding his face with his hands.  
“This is so fucking embarrassing”, the young officer said under his breath.  
Fred slightly nudged him in the shoulder with his good hand. “Have seen worse, believe me. Ready to get up from that floor?”

Together they managed to get Morse seated on the small couch at the side of his office.  
“Feeling a little better?” Fred asked.  
Morse shrugged his shoulders. His thin cheeks were still the colour of spoiled milk instead of his usual pale complexion.  
With his eyes shut he started rubbing his temples in slow circles.  
“Headache?”  
Morse stopped the movement, nodding slowly. “Already went to bed with it.”  
“Want me to find you some pills for it? I am sure the desks of the younger guys are bursting with those, considering how often one of them gets here obviously hungover.”  
“That’d be nice.” Morse said, his speech a little slurred.  
“You going to be alright for a few minutes on your own?” Fred asked.  
“Think so.”  
It was the best answer he would get at the moment. 

Indeed he had no trouble finding some aspirin.  
He made a quick stop at the bathroom, cleaning the blood from his hands before returning to his office.  
Morse had curled up on the tiny couch, his head pillowed on the armrest, soundly asleep. Some colour had returned to his face.  
Depositing the pills and a big class of water on his desk, Thursday silently cleaned the relicts of his little paperknife accident, before turning back to finish the letters.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The ringing of the DI’s phone had Morse shoot up from his sleep about two hours later.  
“Thursday”, the DI said in a way of greeting.  
He listened for a few seconds.  
“Alright we will be there soon. Take good care of him until we get there. I am sure Morse will be glad to have a look at the environment himself.”  
He put down the receiver, looking at Morse. “Are you up for a little trip? Jakes thinks he might have found the culprit. A male nurse in that hospital. They’re having him in custody. Seems he wanted to spare these women from wasting away on their duty of care-giving.”  
Morse squinted his eyes. “That’s so … so sick”, he said, speaking out loud, what Thursday had been thinking.

The DI made him drink two glasses of water and take some aspirin before they started out to the hospital. 

He was surprised, when none of the officers there gave him any funny looks or comments about his little breakdown.  
Even more surprised he was, when also the next day and the following no one in the office spoke about it.  
It seemed, Jakes had not used the opportunity to share some gossip with his colleagues, leaving Morse a little puzzled by his behaviour. 

End


End file.
